


Journey

by 9shadowcat9



Series: The Game [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9shadowcat9/pseuds/9shadowcat9
Summary: Saving the world waited for no one and soon the Inquisition was needed again. The Grey Wardens were missing and Cassandra had decided Evelyn was needed for this mission when word from the scouts arrived about a rift. Hawke (and when had he arrived? Evelyn was sure no one had mentioned him to her.) said he had a source in Crestwood who could help them find the Wardens so off they went, Cassandra leading the party.
At least, she was meant to be.





	

Saving the world waited for no one and soon the Inquisition was needed again. The Grey Wardens were missing and Cassandra had decided Evelyn was needed for this mission when word from the scouts arrived about a rift. Hawke (and when had he arrived? Evelyn was sure no one had mentioned him to her.) said he had a source in Crestwood who could help them find the Wardens so off they went, Cassandra leading the party.

At least, she was meant to be. Apparently, she’d tried to strangle Varric inside the Tavern and now they weren’t speaking. Instead she walked ahead in a huff and Varric was telling Evelyn all about his new publisher who actually paid him. Which was… nice? It was actually really awkward. Dorian was coming along because he said so (Maker help anyone who denied Dorian, the man was a near perfect player of the Game even without training) and Iron Bull was there because Evelyn still needed a guard to stop her running off.

They were not the party she would have chosen but Sera was still avoiding Evelyn and Vivienne was still arranging something about the circles (Evelyn stayed well away from those discussions). And the discussion with Varric stopped the conversation with Dorian. One more ‘magic is a really useful, just try it’ lecture and she’d stab him herself (or maybe she would just ignore him. Her therapist had told her to stop planning assassinations). The walk to Crestwood went as well as expected in that regard. The only reason any of the arguments had stopped was because they’d attracted Venatori attention walking near Lake Calenhad. (The best idea they had for why they were there was that the Venatori had wanted to retake the tower for old times’ sake.)

After proving she was still able to fight without using magic (Why would that suddenly change?) they instead discussed the history of the lake and the Tevinter belief that the water had been blessed by Razikale the God of Mystery. History was a nice safe topic where no one could try to rip out each other’s throats.

And that was why they’d built a tower in the middle of a lake. The Tevinter Imperium of the past were idiots.

She’d heard of the tower here, Kinloch Hold. There was talk of a Rite of Annulment being carried out during the fifth blight. The Templars had said that was why they should be grateful and obedient. She shook her head and refused to look at the empty building that towered over them. It was just another reminder of her failure. Soon it would be a circle again and if she was lucky she would be able to avoid being sent there. Her hand tightened on the sword as she thought of it. Trapped in a tower, never seeing the sun or the grass again. Trapped in the same walls for the rest of her life, with the same people always trying to one up each other in an attempt to gain a little more freedom. Gasping for air as the Templars watched from a safe distance to avoid the fire as they destroyed themselves.

Instead she looked to the forest and pretended the water and the looming building wasn’t there. Sadly that meant she was looking at the Tevinter magi… Atlus… Dorian. She was looking at Dorian. And he, who had been looking at the Tevinter building, was now looking at her. So, friendship. “So is it true that Tevinter practices blood magic?” She tried.

Bad conversation starter. Awful. Horrible. Dorian blinked in time to see her slow walking enough to try to hide behind Iron Bull. The Qunari looked at her with a raised eye brow before shoving her forward again. Where was a mask when you needed one? She blushed and began to stammer. “Not that I judge you for practicing… I mean I’ve heard… I would never…”

She then broke out in Court before Dorian could react, a long sentence with so many ifs and buts by the end she’d managed to apologize to his entire lineage, separate herself from her previous statement entirely and offer a boon to him to show her distaste for that previous statement which came from an unnamed family member who would certainly not be named here. And then tried to hide behind Varric. Who was half her height and was as unimpressed as Iron Bull.

And Dorian was still trying really hard to work out what had just happened because she did remember meeting his father… right?

Cassandra made a noise of disgust from the group without even looking around making Evelyn start another apology in Court. If she kept this up Dorian would eventually end up a Lord in the Orlesian court in apology for said unnamed family members disgrace. Varric, who appeared to speak Court from the times he’d tried to speak to her, broke in with an (awful and unclear) comment which made her struggle to continue before muttering “Sorry…”

“In Tevinter Blood magic is widely disavowed.” Dorian finally answered. And watched Evelyn pale so quickly he had to check she hadn’t been injured in a previous fight. Varric made a quick hand gesture of ‘wrong thing to say’. He very quickly went into detail about how it was practiced behind closed doors to stop what appeared to be her edging closer to the lakes edge. Evelyn continued to speak in court for the rest of the days walk, returning to her noble disposition.

She even put on her mask again, something she hadn’t done since her first trip to the Hinterlands. Cassandra took one look at it and threw up her arms in frustration.

“Sparkles isn’t mad.” Varric finally tried after another attempt to show Dorian really wasn’t upset. He wasn’t going to point out that Dorian was probably more made about being banished from the Library. The answer he got twisted itself into three contradictions and an oxymoron. Varric whistled as she spoke, almost expecting her to pull out a fan. “It was an honest mistake.” It was painful to listen to her panic in Court. 

“I’m not mad.” Plain speech Dorian reminded himself. Something Evelyn could understand and not worry about. “It was an honest question.”

“What the Vint is trying to say, is stop panicking.” Evelyn actually stopped walking, making Iron Bull walk into her. She swallowed and kept walking after Iron Bull shoved her forward hard enough to make her stumble. A hand caught her mask and straightened it as she continued to walk. “And take off the mask, it looks stupid.” He knew Orlesian’s liked their attempts at fashion, but honestly.

“It is improper to ask a lady of the Court to remove her mask.” Evelyn turned on her heel and snapped, hand across her waist to her sword before anyone realised.

“You aren’t in a court.” Cassandra yelled from the front.

“I…” It was horribly fascinating. In Orlais this would have been grounds for an honour duel. But in the wilds, it was a teenager throwing a tantrum. And Evelyn knew it as well as they did. She stopped her sentence at the first word and snarled. Orlais manners called for her to smile and leave gracefully or call for her honour to be reclaimed, because it was Iron Bull in the wrong and all she would do is demean herself otherwise. But anyone with eyes could see Evelyn wanted to run Iron Bull through with a sword herself, manners and honour be damned. Everyone stopped to watch the battle inside the girl.

Until the first wisps of fire curled her fingers and Iron Bull placed his hands on his hammer coldly. This was not a battle she would win. The noble didn’t even notice, her eyes starting to glow. Cassandra made a hand motion and it was like the mana had drained from Evelyn, falling to her knees in sudden exhaustion before hitting the ground face first too tired to move.

The glow had left her eyes leaving only frustration. The noble just glared.

“We’ll make camp here tonight.” Cassandra said coldly, walking over. “And Evelyn? We will talk in private.” And she pulled off the finely built gold mask off Evelyn’s face, carrying the mark of the Inquisition. It wasn’t thrown into the lake, because it would do more harm than good, instead putting it into her own bag. It was a sign of defeat that Evelyn didn’t demand it back, instead lying on the ground in exhaustion without removing her armour or sword.

“Seeker…” Varric started to warn quietly.

“I won’t destroy it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“This is good. She’s showing her actual feelings. She’s trying to talk. She’s trying.”

“And she just threatened to attack Iron Bull. She isn’t getting the mask back.” And it was left at that. After a few minutes Evelyn was able to stand and apologised to everyone. Quietly she went to the water and began to wash her face to remove the mud. She paused at the realization her makeup was washing off as well, kohl running down her face before splashing the cold water to her face and sighed.

It was like her attempts were failing at every turn. From the attempts to befriend Varric (she’d been so certain he’d wanted the ale, but even that had been wrong) to her attempts at talking to Dorian (It was a stupid attempt anyway…). ‘So about blood magic’ she internally mocked herself. Why didn’t she just ask him about blood sacrifices and Templars in the circles while she was at it?! Why were these people so difficult?

It should be simple! Simple conversations about simple topics with simple answers!

The water sizzled and hissed as her hands heated the water. Apparently, she wasn’t out of mana after all. She screamed punching the water. The water splashed her face going into her eyes. But the hissing stopped. As did the sounds of camp being made behind her. Well you know what?! Fine. She didn’t need ‘friends’ or whatever the therapist insisted she needed! After this was done she was returning to the courts! Were the people made sense and spoke clearly and… and…

She looked at Kinloch Hold.

She would never return to the Court. If she was lucky she’d be placed in a circle. If she was unlucky she would be… removed. She was a political danger to the chantry. The Herald of Andraste, a secret mage. She was another symbol of the dangers of mages. Hiding amongst the people until possessed or they snapped and hurt those around them. Unable to hide her face in a crowd. Unable to properly speak even.

What had she expected? It was a joke in the courts that Orlesian diplomats needed lessons when talking to other countries. It was such a well-known joke she hadn’t even thought of it. The one where a diplomat goes to Ferelden, sits with the King at the head table for peace talks and manages to insult the entire country when he speaks Court by accident. ‘And then the armies marched, all due to a pewter tongue and a detached mask.’ The joke had ended. It was what had driven one of the first wars when Ferelden and Orlais had first been formed.

“I just remembered a joke.” She said aloud, still looking at the tower. And she retold the joke which she’d heard in one of her first diplomacy classes. She also remembered the song. A disgraced politician trying to restore his name ending with his head removed and causing a war. She’d learned to play it on the Viol to the ire of her mother. A small, childish rebellion. Vincent had even sung the song with her for guests.

“Fasta vass…”

She giggled. It was actually funny; she was well on her way to getting a joke written about herself. The mage who tried to better herself and wiped out a people instead. Maybe the Chantry would just lead a complete right of Annulment after the war. It would make everything so much easier. Just… remove all the mages. A purge instead of a circle.

“Isn’t it a good joke?” There was no need for Court here. It was just such a funny joke. It was so amusing and delightful. “I used to love the ending of the song.” She didn’t go into detail. No one wanted to remember the aftereffects from that war, the long-term poverty and starvation caused by destroyed farmland and dead peasant.

“…Yeah, it was a good joke.” Varric sounded so sad as he answered. It was odd because it was funny. A warning for diplomats about the dangers of Court when spoken to an outsider. Josephine had probably been raised with Court as a second language to be able to stay so easily in common, Evelyn realised. Josephine had probably learned the Game as a teenager since she was from a disgraced family with money troubles. She’d probably become a bard at one point, an easy way to make a name for yourself if you were good.

She finished washing her face and looked back at everyone else, face clear of makeup and mask. It was probably the first time they’d seen it. Her blue eyes were dull and her skin was pale from the heavy makeup which had covered her skin. Her hair was a mess full of twigs and dirt, only reaching her ears from being cut after a fight where someone had grabbed it. She looked like a commoner.

A filthy, uneducated commoner.

Her mother would kill her by her own hand and her father would disown her. Vincent would drag her to a private bathhouse in an area where no one would recognise them. Maybe pay off the owners to keep the secret. She considered the makeup in her bag, considered putting on the chalk foundation and the kohl and the beeswax lipstick.

And she decided not to wear it. There was no actual point anymore. She didn’t even have her mask and family symbol anymore. Instead she sat with Dorian and began speaking slowly in common, carefully choosing her words as she asked about Tevinter Court culture and language. Beside her Iron Bull and Varric smiled and joined the conversation, correcting her words when she stumbled.

She was no longer at home and soon she would no longer have a status. She wouldn’t allow herself to be broken by her removal from the court though. It was merely a different show with a different style and she had to remember that. It was a struggle and it hurt sometimes. She hated the style. But she could adapt and she would.

Under her skin the swirl of mana slowed until a calm pool, no longer reacting from her anger and stress.

#~#~

Yes, I’m treating Orlesian Court as a separate language. It makes sense, another part of the Game for people to stumble over and a social difference between Commoners and Nobles. Because it is technically common. A very twisty way of speaking common taught through education. It was probably spoken around the dining table and by tutors as well. And that means that while to us Court is ungodly confusing and needlessly complicated, they have the same opinion of what we consider normal speech. A different way of expressing emotions and thoughts.

Evelyn might as well be speaking ancient Tevinter as far as some people are concerned. Especially the people in her original Circle.

Lipstick was made from beeswax and oils at one point, I’m using that because it would be longer lasting then when the lipstick was made from crushed bugs.

The Viol was one of the original violins, it was played by resting it on your lap and played with a bow.

 

So I have no idea how to make words italic on ao3. Its annoying. If someone knows how, please tell me. T_T


End file.
